A Grotesque Beauty
by Madagascar Queen
Summary: Once-ler goes through his eleventh surgery by State law to make himself beautiful. Will he be normal or will he still be ugly. Based on The Twilight Zone's The Eye of the Beholder.


**Been watching _The Twilight Zone_, particularly the episode _Eye of the Beholder_, and searching of fanfics based on the episode, and got inspired to make my own version.**

* * *

_The earth as we know it has changed forever. A one-world State has changed the perspective of beauty. To make the people of the world identical for "unity." Anything difference was now a crime and anyone different were to be shunned or, in worse cases, eliminated. Many were born with the new look with a few gene modification. Others would spend thousands of dollars to blend into society._

* * *

One city was no exception, a city named Greenville. The people of the city were very fortunate to be born beautiful, but there are a few who weren't so lucky. One of them, a tall, thin man in his twenty's, was Once-ler Wiggins. In the Greenville Hospital, he rests in bed with gauze wrapped on his whole head. However, this isn't his first time.

A female nurse stepped in his hospital room. "Evening, Mr. Wiggins," she said. "Your doctor sent me to take your temperature."

He was in his silence for a quite a while until he finally spoke up. "What's the weather like outside like outside, today?" he asked softly. "Is it still cloudy or is the sun finally out?"

"It's nighttime, Mr. Wiggins," she replied slipping the thermometer in his mouth for some of his chin was free. "But so far, I haven't seen any clouds. I don't normally look at the sky every time."

When the thermometer was removed, he asked, "When will the bandages be removed."

"When your face is healed and fixed completely."

He had a feeling she would say that. It was nothing new. "It is pretty nasty, isn't it?"

"I've seen worse," was her only answer.

He only believed it halfheartedly. "It's still pretty nasty, isn't it?" He sighed solemnly. "Since I was little, everyone couldn't bear to see my face. It makes men disgusted, women terrified, and kids screaming and running away in tears." He then turned to her. "I don't care if I look like a model, a movie star, or even an average Joe," he was almost shouting. "I just don't want everyone to scream when they see my face." He was holding her arm. "Do you know when they'll take them off?"

"Mr. Wiggins, relax," she said, trying to calm him down. "I'm not sure when. It could be two day or two weeks, but the point is to let your face heal for the best results. Understand?"

He only nodded. Then the nurse left the room.

* * *

The nurse walked down the hall until she stopped at a female receptionist. She pushed a button on an answering machine. "Dr. Landor, temperature's normal from patient 603 and comfortably resting." "Thank you, nurse, I'll be right down," answered a man's voice on the line and hung up.

"About patient 603: have you see his face?" asked the nurse.

"Have I," said the receptionist with disdain. "If I had that face, I'd put a bullet through my brain."

"I'm surprised he hasn't yet," agreed the nurse.

* * *

"The patient's blood pressure's normal," informed the nurse when speaking at the door of Once-ler's room. "Thank you, nurse," answered Landor. "Bring me the usual sedative at eleven." "Yes, doctor." And she left as he enter the room and stood next to Once-ler's bed.

"Evening, Mr. Wiggins," he greeted. "It finally got warmer today, what with spring around the corner."

"I thought so," Once-ler said, "But I wasn't sure."

"Those bandages will be off very soon," assured Landor. "I bet they're uncomfortable with them on your face."

"Used to it," he chuckled softly.

"No doubt since this is your-" He tried to remember. "Ninth surgery, is it?"

"Eleventh." He was now in his thoughts. "Ironic that the bandages shield in comfort and yet it shields the world from my face. Is there an ounce of hope, doctor?" he questioned. "Will there be a changed on my face?"

"I can't say," was the doctor's only answer. "Since all the procedures were unresponsive, we won't know until the gauze is off." He knew he would say that. He could hear the doctor pondering on the number surgeries he's had. "I know this is my last one."

"We don't want to put your life at risk, so we have little options," warned the doctor. "This last one could be a success."

"What will happen if there's no success?"

"There are a few alternatives."

"Such as?"

He shortly got quiet. "Do you know?"

Once-ler knew he couldn't deny that. "Yes."

"That's why the state made these rules effective," pondered Dr. Landor. "So, each of us will find our place in society. People will go to great depths, money, and time so they'll achieve it, including you." He tried his best to comfort him. "Remember that you're not alone. There are other people going through the same dilemma as yours." He held his shoulder. "The alternative I've mentioned about: One of the them is to place you in a congregated, designated village with people of your kind."

Did he really say-? He couldn't believe it! Once-ler moved his shoulder off Landor's hand in annoyance as anger was building up. "Congregated?" he asked in disgust softly. "My _kind_?" He asked, anger raising in his voice. "You mean segregated!" He spat. "To be segregate to a camp, right?! To be rounded up like animals!"

"Mr. Wiggins!" the doctor warned, now raising his voice. "If the state wasn't sympathetic, we wouldn't let you in this hospital now!" He gathered his composer. "Please, be rational." The beanpole was catching his breaths as the doctor continued. "Now you know you can't be accepted to live among...normal people."

Despite his anger, he was now pleading for any other option. "I can keep the bandages on, right? Or at least buy a mask when I'm around other normal people. I-" He knew by the doctor's silence, those options were out. Anger and despair were now consuming him! "Who the fuck are you control freaks, anyway?! What kind of state makes rules telling people who are different to never be around those who are normal?" Now his voice is trembling. "The state's not God, doctor."

"Please, Mr. Wiggins-" The doctor was about to touch him on the arm.

"THE STATE IS NOT GOD, DAMN IT!" Once-ler blasted, pushing the doctor away. "It never has the right to penalized someone because of an accident at birth! It never has the right to make ugliness a crime!"

"Mr. Wiggins, enough!" Landor shouted. "You should be thankful that were helping you out! You're lucky it isn't a crime to fix your face!" Even thought he was shouting, he did show concern. "Please, think about that," he composed. "We're doing the best we can."

Now the young man felt guilty. They stuck with him and help him, despite how repulsed they were to his disgusting face. He tried to cool down. "Y-you're right, doctor." He said. "I'm...I'm sorry." He sighed to himself. "I just can't stand having this vile...hideous...disgusting face any longer." His arms were shaking at those words. "And I want to be out of this pity party." The doctor wanted to say he understands, but he knows he doesn't. He was born a gorgeous man and his patient was born a monstrous man. "I'll give you some air if that's what you need right now. Want the window open?"

He only nodded. He led him with his hand to the window and opened it for him. "Now, Mr. Wiggins, I'll bring a nurse here in case you do anything...drastic. For the sake of your life."

"Alright, doctor." Then the doctor walked out as another nurse walked in.

* * *

Landor was now in his office thinking about patient 603.

"You're tensed, Dr. Landor." He noticed a nurse standing at the door. "This case, 603 means much to you, does it?"

He pondered. "You do what you can medically, physically, and humanly, and deep down, hope for a miracle. Every now and then it happens, proving you're not wrong or foolish."

The nurse disagreed. "But you're wearing yourself down making it personal."

"You think I haven't told myself that?" He stood out of his desk. "Seeing that man's face, it's-"

"I know," she interrupted. "Atrocious."

"No," he disagreed. "It _is_ his real face. Human, even."

He was about to leave, but the nurse stopped him. "I have to be honest with you, doctor. I can only think of him as human when his face is shielded."

"But, why?" said the doctor passionately. "Why can't everyone be different, and why can't we let beauty be more than skin deep? Why?"

"Doctor, shush," she warned frightfully. "What you're saying is-"

"I know," he sighed. "Treasonous."

She tried to reason with him. "Your sense of balance and sense of values are off on this case."

"It'll all be over when the gauze is off. Whatever the outcome." Then they both left out of his office.

* * *

"The leader's speech is almost on in a few seconds," the receptionist said to another doctor at her desk.

"Thank you," he said.

She pressed a button, revealing television hidden in the wall. On the television was the ruler, a short, yet authoritative man named Aloysius O'Hare.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen," said the announcer. "Our leader."

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," announced O'Hare. "Tonight, I shall talk to you about...glorious conformity. About the delight and the ultimate pleasure of our unified society. For years, the world has defined beauty standards. That those who aren't beautiful were to be separated into species like animals or weeds in a garden. Well, thanks to the state, beauty has been redefined."

* * *

A week went by. In Once-ler's room, he was sitting on a chair with a lamp in front of his bandaged head. Two doctors, including Landor, and two nurses were around Once-ler.

"Before we begin, Mr. Wiggins," instructed Dr. Landor. "I'll have to ask you to remain calm and rational. No hysterics, no outbursts, none of that. Understand?"

"I have to honest, doctor." he replied. "I can't make any promises. Knowing it's my last surgery by law, I'm nervous about the outcome."

"Understandable," he said. "However, if you do get hysterical, any temperaments at all, the nurses and I will have to hold you down and an anesthetist will have to sedate you. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Dr. Landor."

"Now I'm going to cut only one section at a time and remove it gradually so your eyes will slowly adjust to the light. After I unwrap each one, I want you to describe each shade of the light, so keep your head facing the light and your eyes open. Understood?"

"Yes, doctor."

He could hear the scissors snip. At last the moment had come. He couldn't wait to get it off, but at the same time he was nervous. If it's successful, he would finally be beautiful. He would be among the normal. His new face will warm everyone around him, giving him a sense of belonging. If it fails, however, well, he wouldn't know what to do. All the hard work would've gone to waste.

He could see the first band off with the light barely visible. "Do you see any light, Mr. Wiggins?" the doctor asked.

"Yes, but it's gray," he answered.

"Good."

He heard the scissors snip again. And could see the second band rolled off. "What does it look like now?"

"It's brighter, like looking at the moon."

"Good."

A third snip and a third band rolled off. "How about now?

"Definitely brighter. and I can see your hand. Blurry, but I can still see it."

"Good. Now I'm about to cut the last bandage. You want a mirror?"

He was reluctant at first but answered. "Yes, please."

"Alright. Nurse." A nurse put a mirror on the tray.

"Before I begin," he said. "I want you know we did all our best. If successful, you could live a fortunate and new life. However, if there's no success-"

"Dr. Landor," the young man interrupted. "About the alternatives: one of them is the village. Is the other one-" He was hesitant but said it anyway. "Putting me down like a sick animal?"

"Now don't jump the gun, Mr. Wiggins," Landor warned. "It is one of the alternatives provided by the state. They prefer to call it 'execution of the undesirables,' but with your good health, we wouldn't recommend it."

"So, it's the camp, then."

"Yes." He snipped the scissors the last time. "Well, Mr. Wiggins," said Dr Landor. "I wish you the best of luck."

He'd be lying if he said his breath wasn't shaking. The unwrapping seemed to be slower than the other three. The cold air brushed his skin little by little as the bandage was coming off. First his chin, then lips, nose, eyes, forehead, and at last his hair, all black, short, and banged on his left side.

He hoped he would hear clapping for his new face and hoped to see smiles on their faces when he at last saw them for the first time in days. Instead, it was something else and the same reaction: gasps of shear horror and looks of pure terror and disgust. Dr. Landor even dropped the scissors. "No change." he said in horror. "No change at all."

He hoped it was a nightmare and he would wake up, or he hoped it was at least a sick joke! With rapid breaths and shaking hands, he slowly grabbed the mirror from the tray, closed his eyes, positioned it to his face and slowly opened them. The horror and disappointment on his face!

It's true! It was all true! There was no change! His eyebrows and forehead were still straight, his eyes were still clear, and the color of his iris would put the clear sky to shame! His lashes were straight, visible, and fine! His nose was still straight and to top it all off, it was a button nose! His peach pink skin was still clear, smooth, and a few faded freckles on his smooth cheeks! His lips were also still smooth and straight! It was all for nothing! He was still monstrous!

_It can't be true!_ He thought to himself repeatedly while hyperventilating and hands still shaking! _It just can't be true!_

With a shout, he threw the mirror over the nurses and it landed at the side of the wall, shattering it to pieces! He made a run to the door, but the doctor and a nurse held him down. He tried to free himself from their grasps, but to no avail. "I was afraid of this," spoke Dr. Landor, while he and the nurse were still holding him. "Turn on the lights!"

The nurse turned on the lights. The doctor, nurses, and the anesthetist all had the same good faces. The skin on their foreheads drooped down to their eyebrows until they bagged. The bottom of their eyelids looked dark like bags. Their cheeks were drooped as if they were melted. Their upper lips were curved upward on either side of their mouths, barely hiding their lower lips. Their noses were pulled upwards, looking like pig snouts. They were truly gifted with marvelous, normal beauty, unlike the sick eyesore like him.

"Needle, please!" called the doctor. The anesthetist got his injection needle prepared and was ready to stick it in the hysterical patient. Panicking, Once-ler elbowed the doctor clear in the chest and freeing himself from the shocked nurse. At last, he ran out of the door!

"Stop that patient!" Landor yelled through the pain. "Stop him!" He and another nurse ran after him.

In the halls, there was a television at every corner of him as he kept running, even though he lost them, and they were heard in every intercom for all to hear O'Hare's speech. Even he had the same face of perfection. "We know now that there must be a single purpose, a single norm, a single approach, a single entity of people, a single philosophy of government!"

As Once-ler ran, he kept dodging all the other doctors and nurses. No matter how many were there, they, too, were all perfect. He could here men gasp in horror, women scream with fright, and kids and babies wail. He couldn't bare it!

"There will be no equality for all if there is difference!" O'Hare continued. "That is why we must no longer permit the ugly weeds to exist within our garden of society! They must be plucked and removed! Difference is for the polluter! Variation is for the destroyer!"

Once-ler couldn't escape those ever-crushing words! He didn't know if they were mocking, condemning, or both?! He kept running until he made a sudden stop out of terror! A wall opened, appearing another television in clear view with the speech still playing! "It is essential, in this society, that we not only have the norm, but that we conform to that norm!"

It's as if he was only speaking to him and him alone! Not taking it anymore, he grabbed a fire extinguisher hanging on the side of the wall threw it at the television until it shattered and shocked off! Of course, that didn't stop the speech playing on the rest of them as he continued running. "Conformity we must worship and hold sacred! Conformity is the key to survival!"

He ran into another room, hoping he would hide from the doctors. Instead he came face to face with a woman waiting in that room. She was an absolute monster! He felt sick to his stomach as he stepped back to get away from her! He wanted to run but could see in the window that Dr. Landor was coming. He knew he was caught, and he was trapped! He pounded the door once in frustration, terror, and disgust, not daring to face that grisly creature, as he sunk to his knees in defeat!

Opening the other side of the door, Dr. Landor came in. "Mr. Wiggins," he said kneeling to his view. "Mr. Wiggins, don't be afraid." Once-ler refused to look or open his eyes. "She's one of the representatives from the group you'll live with. Oddly enough, you ran right to her."

He helped him up. "It'll be alright, Mr. Wiggins." He got up, but he refused to face anyone. "She won't hurt you." He turned to her and slowly walked towards her but kept his eyes away from her. However, he took one peak and his skin crawled!

She looked to be around his age, but she was shorter than him. She had gorgeous brunette, curly hair, but he couldn't even describe the rest of her sickening features. Behind her glasses, her eyes were as clear as his, but her iris matched her hair as her lashes fluttered. Not to mention her forehead was straight, too, and her eyelashes are finer than his. Her peach pink skin was also smooth and clear. Only she was freckle free. Her smooth straight lips were as pink as a spring tulip. Her nose was smaller than his, but it was as straight as his. She was truly revolting.

"Now this is Miss Geisel," introduced Dr. Landor. "Miss Norma Geisel. She and her family run a northern village group. She'll take you there tonight. It's the only way now." He left the room to leave them alone.

"Mr. Wiggins," the woman said gently, holding his hand. He'd be lying if he said his blood didn't run cold from her touch. "My family and I have a wonderful village in the north, along with friendly people. I think you'll love that place. We do. You'll be with your own people, and in a while- a very little while- you feel belonged and you'll feel loved, and you will be."

Despite her horrid face, she spoke so comforting. Like a light at the end of the tunnel or an angel saving him from Hell. He did want to be loved and to belong. Gradually putting his walls down, he faced her and only asked in desperation "Miss Geisel?"

"Yes?"

'Why do we have to be so hideous?"

"I don't know," was her only answer. "I honestly don't. However, that shouldn't matter. There's a very old, but true, saying: 'Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.' When we leave to the village, say that to yourself repeatedly: Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.'" He didn't understand the meaning, but it felt relieving. It felt comforting rather than condemning.

"We'll help pack your thing and leave tonight."

For the very first time in his life, he felt accepted, which was what he desperately craved for. Accepting the offer, he held her hand more comfortably. They both went out to the door and faced the doctors, nurses, and anesthetist. Knowing this would be the last time seeing them, Once-ler stopped. "Thank you all for all your help," he said with gratitude.

"Good luck, Mr. Wiggins," Dr. Landor said, shaking his free hand. "And goodbye."

As the pair walked hand in hand out of the room, the young man was hoping in his mind and heart: hoping to feel belonged, accepted, and loved. Hoping he would look past the faces of the village people and love his own. He'll be finally be away from the place where he won't be judged as ugly nor beautiful, but as himself. Maybe one day, he'll learn the meaning of that one phrase: Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

* * *

_The Twilight Zone Rod Serling_

_The Lorax (2012) Dr. Seuss, Universal Studios, Illumination_


End file.
